By all accounts, the ancient Clan MacLaren were fighting folk. Their rallying cry, “Creag an Tuirc” (the Boar’s Rock), is either a tribute to their steadiness in battle or to the hardiness of their lasses. Or to the actual Boar’s Rock, a grassy promontory in central Scotland. When not stealing cattle or running spikes through the neighbors, the MacLarens liked to gather there for haggis roasts—except maybe in summer, when the swarming midges will eat a man alive. No wonder the ancestors of Bruce McLaren, the ambitious Kiwi who built a racing empire and whose name today graces a Formula 1 team as well as a line of dreamy sexpot supercars, got the hell out of there.